


"You Need a [New] Purpose."

by RosaClearwater



Series: "Hello, Finch." [4]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: AU, Gen, M/M, There's definitely some cameos in this one ;D :)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 02:59:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13941135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosaClearwater/pseuds/RosaClearwater
Summary: "More Specifically, You Need a [New] Job."_._Or, Mr. Reese attempts a career change and it sort of works?Maybe?





	"You Need a [New] Purpose."

**Author's Note:**

> So, I never expected to receive 500 kudos or even a quarter of the support I've been given for my works. Ever. 
> 
> **Thank you.**

Harold still loves John, probably always will.

 

That didn’t mean he wasn’t also get a bit fussy about the fact that the man had no current job.

 

“How about bowling league manager? You did mention you’ve had to manage people in the past.”

 

“I’m not joining a bowling league, Harold.”

 

“How about helping video game artists with reconstructing military--” John looked up over the coffee table with that look -- the one that told Harold everything that he needed to know. “Nevermind.”

 

No, they weren’t quite together at this point. Just friends who were unusually invested in one another.

 

And, if John found it more comfortable at Harold’s than the motel he was currently inhabiting, then…

 

Well, did that really require a proper explanation?

 

“What about being a security guard? JGU’s apparently hiring.”

 

“Maybe.” Except he’s really not interested and they both know it.

 

Now, John hasn’t quite been able to hand out his entire past to the man -- surprisingly, figuring out how the hell he’s going to bring up knowing Grace is more terrifying than working for the Agency.

 

Fortunately, Harold has been incredibly understanding. Faint smiles of appreciation at the kernels of information handed, eyes flickering with restrained curiosity when something comes up.

 

It’s true that Harold’s a curious person, a literal creator and solver of puzzles. He’s got a secret here or there, too, and because of that he wants any trust they have to build naturally. That means letting John trail off, not questioning how he took down that one mugger in under ten seconds, letting the man have his space.

 

But, he lets John have his secrets in the end.

 

… There’s just one thing he can’t really let go of:

 

“What do you think about being a bouncer?” It was followed by a murmured remark John couldn’t believe he’d heard correctly for the subtle flirtation embedded within.

 

“Come again, Harold?”

 

“Oh, I see there’s a Customer Marketing Internship opportunity with IBM!”

 

“Harold--”

 

“Wait, no, I spoke far too soon. That’s specifically geared towards college undergraduates.”

 

“Harold,” But the man seemed drawn to his computer and only his blushing ears displayed any sign that he was purposefully ignoring his friend.

 

Fortunately, John knows how to let things go gracefully.

 

… For the most part.

 

_._

 

He gives being a bouncer a shot, lands an interview, and manages to be gifted with bird crap from a derange pigeon ten minutes before the interview was to start.

 

Suffice to say, once Harold heard the full story, the man had a hard time holding in his laughter.

 

In fact, much to John’s irritation, the laughter was held in for only five minutes.

 

_._

 

If it wasn’t the not-so-subtle-remarks (“How’s the Indeed search going? Any luck with Vault?”), it was the obvious glances sent in the direction of “HELP WANTED” signs on the streets.

 

But John was damned if he was going to be a Barista at Starbucks.

 

_._

 

“You know, even though the quality of food is at times questionable, McDonalds is actually quite a respectable position for someone of your--”

 

“No.”

 

_._

  


When he thought he saw a flash of red on the street, he almost cried in relief. Maybe Hendricks would take him back and he could somehow keep both the old job _and_ Harold--

 

Or maybe he was just so desperate he’d mistaken a child’s red balloon for his old boss.

 

_._

 

“How’d--”

 

“They said the position had been filled.”

 

He wasn’t going to mention that they actually had only taken a look at his worn-out suit that was just a little too small before showing him the door.

 

_._

 

He’s walking down the street, _almost_ debating about trying it out with the Force.

 

Sure, his resume wasn’t really up to scratch, he probably wouldn't be able to explain the military training -- not that he _should_ do that -- and his instincts were trained to see threats even in old ladies…

 

But, Harold wanted to him to get a job.

 

And he loved Harold.

 

Truly.

 

(Even if right now he wanted to throttle the man for all of the “help”.)

 

Fortunately, it’s in that moment that the celestial trumpets cue and his eye catches a particular sign begging for help of any kind.

 

Now this, this he can work with.

 

_._

 

Seeing that the place wasn’t in the best of neighborhoods, that the boss was a sketchy kind of character, and that there was definitely a few guns in the place should have put John gunning for the door.

 

And it did.

 

That is, up until he saw the survivors he’d be working with.

 

_._

 

They were walking in the direction of Harold’s place in a comfortable silence. Both of them were keeping an eye out on their surroundings, and the calm that surges through the ex-vigilante at this simple job is astonishing.

 

It almost matches the level of _right_ he experienced that day he first met Harold all those months ago.

 

And, suddenly John was feeling nervous. Because, while this feels right for him, if Harold doesn’t approve of the job he’s not really sure what he’s supposed to do. And if this is first real sign that this strange and amazing relationship was just some psychological transference crap or something…

 

Well, he’d get to that moment when he had to.

 

John had mentioned having finally snagged a job to Harold, much to the clear delight of the man.

 

(“That’s wonderful to hear, John! What’s the job?”

 

“I’m a manager.”

 

“A manager?”

 

“... Yup.”

 

“...? Of anything particular?””

 

“Of things.”

 

“... Right.”

 

“We did agree I had experience with managing, Harold.”)

 

That conversation had ended in a promise to drop by after the first day and share all the not-quite-gory details.

 

So, now, he’s standing in front of the man’s apartment in an almost bashful manner, wondering how the hell he’d ended up in this situation.

 

(The familiarity of this is _not_ lost on him.)

 

Seriously, beating up bad guys was _far_ easier than all of this.

 

_._

 

“So, are you going to finally let me in on your new secret job or--”

 

Whatever Harold had been expecting to be greeted with, it had not been what was waiting for him.

 

“Harold,” A furry head rose in a greeting, as intelligent eyes grinned playfully up at the recluse. “Meet Butcher.” The name doesn’t quite sit right with either of them, but the dog more than makes up for it.

 

“Is that a German Shepherd?” John smiled at the incredulous tone, relieved that it only seemed to contain curiosity.

 

“Actually, Butcher here is a Belgian Malinois.” And, speaking of the dog, said Belgian Malinois was eagerly sniffing the air for that entrancing rare book smell wafting out of the place.

 

Now, Harold didn’t own a library --   _not yet, at least,_ John thought to himself with an inward smirk -- but he did own a few first-edition books that were placed near the entrance.

 

And he was smart enough to realize what was grabbing Butcher’s attention.

 

“Seems like Butcher has good taste.” The dry remark told John everything: while Harold would require explanation on why there was a dog entering his humble abode, he wasn’t terribly opposed to having a dog ( _dogs, maybe_?) around.

 

Though, he’s definitely not as taken with Butcher as John is.

 

That much is clear.

 

“They needed someone to walk the dogs and it didn’t matter who was interested.” A proper explanation will eventually spill out later as to why John’s priority dog was Butcher -- a dog that required Dutch commands -- but Harold will already surmised that it's all connected to the unknown information that is his past.

 

Of course, the recluse is genuinely surprised once he finds out all the dogs in the shelter suffered some form of abuse.

 

(And, after finding out that little crucial piece of information, he chooses to reward Butcher with a scrumptious treat for seemingly nothing -- much to a certain ex-vigilante’s delight)

 

_._

 

If John’s daily walks take Butcher and the other dogs in the direction of Harold’s, well it’s a good amount of exercise for them.

 

And that's definitely the only reason.

 

_._

 

If Harold suddenly has an abundance dog treats at the ready and is becoming well-versed in Dutch, well, it is a smart thing to be prepared for any circumstance.

 

And, planning ahead is _most certainly_ the only reason for said preparations, thank you very much.

 

_._

  


It takes John only a little over a week to realize that his work environment is a hell of a lot more than just “sketchy”.

 

It sadly takes him almost two to fully realize that the dogs aren’t getting the treatment they deserve, the forms are definitely _not_ in order, the inspections have all been failed repeatedly, and someone’s stealing money somewhere.

 

(Probably the guy in charge of the money, some idiot named Leon).

 

Anyway, when the truth publically comes out in week three -- almost all the dogs were stolen and the shop was a front for more malicious intentions -- he’s pissed to say the least.

 

Not because he's out of a job, that honestly doesn't even cross his mind. But because Butcher and the dogs sure as hell don’t deserve that kind of treatmnent.

 

They also don’t deserve the pound, but that looks like it’s the next stop for them.

 

_._

 

_“How are things at the shelter?”_

 

“Things have been interesting.”

 

A purposeful pause. Indignant, almost.

 

_“You do know you will have to eventually fill me in on the details, John.”_

 

“ _Always_ , Harold.”

 

It's a sarcastic retort, but one day it'll be spoken in a far more serious tone.

 

(Just not today.)

 

_._

 

The soon-to-be-ex-dog-walker is only a few decisions away from just stealing Butcher and maybe even a few of the others before they're all collected.

 

He can’t save them all, he tries to pretend to know that.

 

But, he might be able to buy them time. Maybe even find some of them a worthy home.

 

_._

 

_“Are you sure everything's alright?”_

 

“Not really.”

 

_“Well, I--”_

 

“Just need a little time alone.”

 

_“I quite understand. Please let me know if you need anything.”_

 

_._

 

When John comes back to the job only to discover that the place had been broken into the night before by three "crazy" women and all of the dogs are gone, he doesn’t know how Hendricks found out or how the hell he’s going to thank her.

 

(He also doesn’t know why he’s angry with her for taking Butcher away, but he definitely is.

 

He takes his frustration out on restraining Leon, who foolishly thought he could scurry off into the sunset.)

 

_._

 

_Well, so much for that._

 

His first “real” job and it was over before the fourth week.

 

Had felt sort of right, turned out to be horribly wrong, and he wasn’t going to even get enough money to properly keep up the search.

 

(Let alone buy a suit that actually fits him...)

 

Though, honestly, John was more upset with the fact that the dogs had to leave. That Hendricks waltz in with her two henchwomen and they were able to do what John had been wanting to do for _weeks_.

 

(But, maybe, with his track record in regards to keeping the ones he cared about safe… maybe, that was really for the best.)

 

In any case, it was time to drop by Harold’s and just figure out the next step. Get the pep talk over with and go back to searching.

 

_._

 

Whatever John had been expecting to be see when he got to Harold's, it wasn't this.

 

“Mr. Reese,” Harold announced grandly, uncharacteristically sticking to formality as the door swung open to fully reveal his little surprise. “Meet Bear.”

 

_… How the--?_

 

“Harold, I--” He hadn’t told the man the extent to the problems with his job.

 

Like, at all.

 

Figured it’d be easier to sweep it under the rug and keep looking for a new opportunity than reveal just how screwed up the place was. Because bringing up all of that meant thinking about all of that, and that meant getting angry over the fact that he was once again unable to actually save anything.

 

So, to find both Harold and Butc-- _Bear ?_ \-- waiting for him on the recluse’s doorstep was one hell of an experience.

 

“I do follow the news, after all.” A pointed look. “And, because there’s currently a renewed interest in logic puzzles, I’ve able to generate enough money lately I can make spontaneous decisions.” _Spontaneous decisions that I’ve been contemplating for a few weeks now, of course,_ was the unspoken end of that remark.

 

“And the name change?”

 

“Well, _Butcher,_ ” A cringe accentuated the disdain, “Didn’t really seem all that fitting. However, since he’s technically _your_ dog--”

 

**_My_ ** _dog?_

 

“You may change the name if you’d like.”

 

But, John is already loving the sound of Bear far more than Butcher. He’s already loving the fact that Harold did this for him, that this was a surprise and it was also a nice surprise.

 

John doesn’t normally care for shocking events. Far from it.

 

Knowing everything isn’t necessary for him; knowing just enough to make it through life was just enough. Surprises have never been his thing and, still, he  _really_ likes what today has brought him. Likes the fact that if he closes his eyes for a moment, it’s almost as though he's standing in _their_ home, not just Harold’s. And, if he just lets the thought simmer for a good second, he could almost see Bear being _their_ dog.

 

Not just his.

 

“John?” Damn it, he's gotten too caught up in his thoughts and has taken too long to respond. “I’m so sorry -- I didn't even take into consideration that you weren't going to want this. I can't believe how silly I--”

 

“Harold.” He stops that horrendous train of thought, pulling himself out of his remininscing and back towards reality. “I like it all.” Another ear scratch for the Belgian Malinois who is glowing in delight. “I love it, actually.”

 

And when John looks up once more at his friend, he sees that tiny, endearing smile peeking out from the concern. He sees those blue eyes flickering with a reassuring warmth. A warmth that told him that, even if they had no idea what the future would bring, this moment was something to be cherished.

 

“Me too.” 

 

They start to properly fix their attentions -- and affections -- towards Bear. Tummy rubs occur, fur is mussed around, and treats of both the human and dog variety are shared.

 

And if the two men are simultaneously thinking of a slightly different life, one where there’s only one or two variance within the current situation…

 

Well, does that one _really_ require an explanation?

 

**Author's Note:**

> Bonus snippet of dialogue that occurred approximately ten minutes later:
> 
> "You will, of course, be back on the hunt tomorrow, right?"
> 
> _._
> 
> Alternative Title:
> 
> “John, Meet Bear.”


End file.
